


Fragments Of A Shattered Mirror

by TwistedToxic



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I mean look at the other tags, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, It wasn't as intense as originally planned but, It's fully stated he currently is a prostitute, Not sure if it counts but it's there to be safe, Slight Underage Drug Use, There's no implied/referenced, This fic is pretty intense, Underage Prostitution, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedToxic/pseuds/TwistedToxic
Summary: Jason Todd, before Robin, lived on the street. He's had to do things to get by before he was found by the Batman. Gotham's streets are not kind, regardless of your age, and the people seem to be almost as cruel. Age didn't matter. If you were old enough to be out on the streets, then you were old enough for anything. It wasn't fair, but Gotham, she wasn't fair. She'd eat you alive. It was either do whatever you could to get by, or lay down and die.Jason wasn't one to lay down and die, no matter how much it took out of him. No matter what he had to do.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Fragments Of A Shattered Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Normally, I start off with a random block of rambling, but not this time. I debated on rating this explicit, it's that intense.
> 
> Warning, this fic has the potential to be triggering. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, please take a break from reading this. Otherwise, you are reading at your own risk. This fic deals with extremely underage prostitution, sexual abuse, references to being raped, taking advantage of sex workers (see the aforementioned 'being raped'), brief underage smoking, drug addiction, and somewhat graphic talk of how filthy Jason feels and brief flashbacks. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
> 
> I also must note, due to the nature of this fic, I do not support or condone any actions within this work. Please do not assume that because I wrote this, I support it. I had to take a break from this, it got that distressing for me. Hence, why the warning is right off the bat.
> 
> This was also longer than I thought. I was expecting like, 1000-ish words, but hey, I managed to make something longer than expected.

Jason could barely stand, desperately reaching for the rags that used to be his clothes. _Anything_ at all to cover his naked body. Something ran down his leg: blood, the man's fluids, oil? He didn't know, all he cared about was how much he hurt. How wet his face was with tears and how hoarse his throat felt from his screams, the screams nobody heard. Even children, Gotham was desensitized to it, because they couldn't really do a damn thing anyways.

He couldn't hold in his sobs, feeling sorer and more pained with each of his steps. He's sure at least one of his knees was bleeding from how hard the man pushed him down to the unforgiving ground like it was where he belonged. The rags were, as expected, useless to cover him. Men leered and hollered, whistling and cheering. It all made Jason feel _filthier_ , but he had to get by somehow. All he had to do was get to one of the working girls. They all said he was too young for this line of work, and even if he didn't want to admit it, thirteen was not an age to be selling your body, but it was ironic how he got quite a bit of customers. Kind of said a lot about the people of this city.

He didn't know when he arrived at Anne-Marie's but she rushed to his side with a first aid kit. Not like he could afford medical attention. Hell, it wasn't like any of them could.

" _Jay!_ " Anne-Marie cried in alarm, looking at one of the other girls, Amber. She caught on and began looking for something Jason could wear. " _Please_ , Jay, let us help you."

"Ya pimp almost killed ya for doin' that shit." He said. "'sides, I'm lookin' into a new business." He said. Amber tossed him a shirt and a pair of shorts. The shirt was a few sizes too big, but at least it was clothing on his back. He knew not to complain.

"Jay, this job is gonna kill you, that's what." She said, letting him clean himself up, slipping him a fifty while he was busy.

"How much did you even make?" Amber asked, lighting her cigarette. Jason reached into his pocket on the ragged jeans. Eighty dollars. That was it. Amber grimaced. Hell, if he had a pimp, Jay would be _dead_. "Jay, she's right."

_Deep down, Jason knew Anne-Marie was right too._

* * *

Jason let out a whimper, curling up on himself to protect his stomach. The blows kept coming, the men laughing at him like he was weak for reacting the way he was.

"This is what happens when you charge too much, kid." One of the men sneered, landing a kick to Jason's jaw. The second and third men were counting the money. _That was all three hundred dollars he'd made that night._ At least his clothes were intact. Dirty, ripped, and made him feel naked anyways, but he was clothed.

Jason could only respond by spitting out the tooth the man kicking him had knocked out. His shoes still had emergency money in them, but he could have used that three hundred dollars and now he was only left with a lone twenty dollar bill. When they stopped, he curled tighter to himself and let out a sob. This was something you couldn't ever get used to, be it the first time or the _millionth_ time. He felt disgusting and wanted to tear off his skin, but even then it would do nothing to ease the pain. He could be stripped to the bone and that nagging feeling would stay. He'd probably feel even _more_ naked. Pearl managed to get a stable job, and she says that the feeling doesn't ever go away.

Jason did what he always did, and picked himself up, even with tears and snot running down his face and the bruises already forming. The phantom sensations of hands and words of promise of how 'good' they'd make him feel, even with the filth and despair bubbling up under his skin, it still didn't keep him down. Despite the fact he really felt like curling up and dying, he had to prove to Gotham, and _everyone_ in it, that he'd survive it on the streets. Nobody except him and the working people cared, but that was all Jason needed to keep going, to not end up like Isaac. He didn't know him, but he still remembered finding the body in the dumpster, naked and stabbed at least thirty times. Jason hated it. it reminded him of seeing his mother in the bedroom, needle in her hand, body going cold.

Fixing himself up, he walked out of the alleyway and back onto the street corner and waiting, cigarette he stole from Amber hanging from his lips. It was a few hours of waiting before a car, a _very nice_ car at that, rolled up to him. Jason felt sick, but he'd keep going.

He got in the car.

* * *

Jason couldn't breathe. It was an accident, _he didn't mean to._ All he meant to do was knock the man out, and now he wasn't breathing, blood steadily pooling onto the asphalt. He killed a man, he actually fucking _killed_ somebody. He couldn't move the body to the harbor, he wasn't strong enough, but he couldn't leave the body here. The rain would wash away the blood, but he had to get rid of the body. He looked at the dumpster. He'd have to get rid of the shirt too. It was covered in blood. He took the bags out of the dumpster, and tossed the shirt in after setting fire to it. Nobody would bat an eye at a shirtless kid covered in bruises.

He grabbed the body by the legs, using a few crates for leverage, before shoving the body in with a loud thud. He was getting too rough with Jason and he meant to grab a rock, _not_ a tire iron, but he kept telling him no, not until he paid him, but he wouldn't listen. He saw his wallet on the pavement and took the money. _Tch, fifty bucks, cheap bastard._ Now he knows why he wouldn't pay him. He stuffed the wallet in his pocket and hauled the bags back into the dumpster, which was much harder dragging them out.

He grabbed the tire iron and began walking. The haunted look on his face screamed measures. He wanted to cry, but he was beyond that now. No more tears. He couldn't get too soft anymore. Getting soft meant getting killed. He came across a car, and he had an idea. The tires would at least be worth _something_ , right?

Regardless, he got to work.

* * *

There was a new boy on the block. 17, all the way from Star City. Now, why would he come to Gotham to sell himself? He looked at the redhead in his booty shorts, freckles scattered across his pale skin. He could tell he wasn't used to this. He was all shifty and shit, like Jason was for the first year.

Then he saw the needle. _Oh._ Jason wanted to smack the shit out of him. Hell, he'd walk to his little hole he stashed his stuff in and hit the kid with the fucking tire iron.

"What the fuck brings ya from Star City, _freckles?_ " Jason asked, the kid letting out a curse and dropping the now empty needle.

"Got kicked out."

"Well, maybe ya shouldn't be doing fuckin' drugs, huh?" Jason shot back.

"Maybe you should mind your own fucking business, kid." The redhead hissed, venom in his green eyes. "You got a name, brat? I like to know whose ass I'm kicking." Jason couldn't help but snort.

"Ya think you're such hot shit? Seems your temper matches your fuckin' hair. What's your name?"

"Just call me Red." Jason rolled his eyes. "Don't throw stones from a glass house, man." Red told him, gesturing to Jason's red locks of hair. Jason flipped him the bird. "I'll call you Birdie."

"What makes ya fuckin' think I wanna be called _that?_ " Jason snapped. God, Red wouldn't last a fucking week. He's probably gonna end up in some dumpster, or just go missing and that's it.

"How about I call you _Brat_ then?"

"Real rich coming from a junkie. Selling yourself for drugs is fuckin' stupid."

"So why do you sell yourself? You're like, _nine._ "

"I..." Jason faltered. "I ain't got a place to go." Red seemed to soften a little in sympathy.

"Well, that makes two of us, Birdie." Jason nods.

"People refuse to fuck a teenager up in Star City?" Red made some expression halfway between a shrug and a grimace.

"Kinda. Lot of people won't mind my age down here. I mean look at you." Jason glared. "Hey, it isn't an insult. The other reason is that my... My boss would find me there." Jason nodded. Who he worked for wasn't his business. Red ran a hand through his hair.

"Gotham will eat ya _alive_ , Red." Red shrugged.

"Hey, if I die, I die. If I'm here selling myself for drugs, do you think I care if I get killed?"

"Ya got that for ya. Lotsa people think suicidal idiots like you are too pathetic to kill." He was expecting to get punched, but it didn't come.

"You're funny."

" _Thanks_ , I always wanted to be a comedian. What happened to kicking my ass?"

"I don't hit kids, Birdie. Especially because you're probably only eleven."

"First of all, I'm thirteen. Second of all, you're gonna have to get used to hittin' kids. Kids in Gotham don't fuck around." He said. "I gotta go. Maybe I'll kick your ass for having a straight fuckin' _death wish._ "

With that, Jason left.

* * *

Jason fixed the hoodie tighter to his body, a shiver escaping him. He'd lost his shirt earlier that night, almost gagging at everything. The man's smell, the months of shoving everything down, the filth under his skin and eating him from the inside out. He remembered all of the 'sweethearts' and the caresses upon his skin. All of the words so sickly sweet it felt like he'd choke just hearing them. Being pushed down too many times in a place or bed in who the hell knows where. He remembered one of the men watching and laughing as Jason's body went lax, feeling him up before he lost consciousness.

He clenched his fists. Maybe he should stop tonight. There were plenty of cars he could rip instead. It would be a distraction so he could push this shit down further. He lit his cigarette, heading to the hole where he kept his things. His brows raised higher upon hearing a moan of pain and then a gunshot. He saw a bulky figure running off. He'd chase them, if not for the fact he needed his strength for lifting tires and batteries from cars. He grabbed around in the hole, eyes going wide when it hit him that the tire iron was missing. He turned around, and there was Red, tire iron in his hands and a goofy smile on his stupid freckled face.

"Looking for _this_ , Birdie?" Jason flipped him off and reached for it. Unfortunately for Jason, Red was mostly grown and at _least_ a foot taller than him.

"Come on, _asshole_. I got shit to do." Red laughed, handing him the iron without complaint.

"So do I. Just wanted to make sure you'd be okay." Jason rolled his eyes.

"I am, else I'd be in a dumpster. Don't be getting soft on me, Red." He said, but Jason couldn't help his own smile. "I'll beat ya with this myself if ya are." He said, and Red ruffled his hair.

"Sure, Birdie. All you'd be able to reach is my shins."

"I could knock ya down, then beat ya." It was Red's turn to roll his eyes. _Maybe he'd find a brain back there._

"Beat the shit out of me later, Birdie. I gotta be out on the street."

Jason had to get to ripping cars, but he saw Red off before turning around and heading for the parking lot. He'd never admit it, but Red always made him smile a little. He couldn't say they were _friends..._ But Jason would beat up anybody who refused to pay him. Luckily, there was an abandoned warehouse Jason used close by to the parking lot. He was on his third engine before someone came across him. He chased Jason, and even hitting him in the stomach with a tire iron didn't deter the pissed off man.

He ran after Jason around he parking lot, and despite the efforts of Jason weaving between cars, the man pinned Jason, poison seething in his words about how he'd make a 'bitch like him' pay as he pushed Jason down onto the hard ground and began laying into Jason with his boots.

* * *

Jason didn't know what happened before he was rendered unconscious. Usually, that meant some asshole had gotten ahold of him. The only telltale sign that anything had happened were the bruises forming on his skin and his bloody nose. He was already mottled with bruises, and everything was kind of fuzzy, so it was a little hard to tell at this point. He made his way back to the alley, silently hoping Red would be there so he could tease him.

Jason almost dropped his tire iron, and it felt like he had to lift his jaw up off of the ground. It couldn't be...

_Holy fucking shit. It was the fucking Batmobile._

_Jason could make a fortune off of those tires! He ran over, tire iron in hand, and got to work._

**Author's Note:**

> Bet you weren't expecting a sudden happy/hopeful ending, huh? That's probably the only time you'll get one of those, haha. Trust me, the ending I had planned was going to be much different than what I actually wrote, but this fic was really intense, so I thought I'd at least ease the 2000 odd words of hurt. I also had more graphic scenes planned like in 'Bad News', but ultimately said "No, baby Jay has been through too much in this one." Also, there is a nod to something mentioned in 'Bad News' but it's pretty vague. ;)
> 
> Originally, the line with the man in the parking lot pinning Jason was not going to be 'laying into him wit his boots', but I toned it down because I thought it would have been too intense. Kind of like why I added Red, because it would have just been plain depressing otherwise.
> 
> Also, I was about as subtle as a fucking anvil with Red and his identity, but I want to hear who you think it is!
> 
> If you need this changed to explicit, please let me know, and as always, thanks for reading and let me know if you'd like tags added! I would say sorry for hurting Jason so much, but we all know I'm not, haha!


End file.
